Word Gets Around
by bugsfic
Summary: The winding path that gossip takes in the great house.
1. Chapter 1

_Spoilers: S1.3-4_

_A/N: I adore the way no one can keep a secret on this show to save their lives. (Or very few) With Anna and Bates romance, everyone just suddenly seems to know. I have to think there's more to it. _

i. Mrs. Hughes

Usually, Mrs. Hughes was the first to catch wind that something was up with the young women with whose welfare she was charged. But perhaps, after all these years, she was losing a step. Because she hadn't seen this coming at all.

"Mr. Bates, whatever put this idea in your head?" she scolded as she swabbed the infected sores on his bare leg.

The valet was in a chair in her sitting room, having been bodily dragged there by Mrs. Hughes after she discovered his self-induced injuries caused by a steel brace. He was paler than usual, biting his lip and clutching the towel covering his lap for modesty as the housekeeper sterilized his wounds.

"The maker assured me it would lessen my limp," he gasped.

"You didn't believe that?" she said, settling back on her heels and looking up at him, incredulous. "Where did you find this doctor?"

"It wasn't a doctor," he grumbled. "It was off an advertisement in a gazette."

"Oh, then it must have worked!" His crestfallen expression stopped her tirade. "But Mr. Bates, why? You're doing well the way that you are. Your limp is a badge of honor, in my mind."

"I need to keep up," he said stubbornly.

"You keep up just fine," she insisted, swiping more alcohol on a particularly deep wound until he gasped. "I didn't think that you cared a whit what the likes of Thomas or Miss O'Brien believed of you or your abilities."

"I don't," he whimpered, staring at the ceiling to fight the pain.

"Those that count think the world of you...Mr. Carson's come around—" She had to take her own bitter medicine too. "And myself."

He forced on a smile, even as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

She began to dab salve on the abrasions. "And look at Anna. Why, she's the best judge of character I've ever met, and she liked you right off."

As she'd spoken, Mrs. Hughes' hand was resting on his thigh and the way his limb went rigid made her think that her touch was too high. And then it struck her; the reason why a sensible and proud man would do something so utterly foolish. She silently cursed her own blind stupidity.

While she groomed the young maid to someday step into her shoes, her certainty in Anna's independent spirit had made her lax. After all, the girl firmly turned away any footman's flirting and kindly rebuked the interest from the bachelor farmers who were captivated by her giggles and shining head at the local balls. Anna loved to dance the evening away, but that was where it all ended.

Oh yes, Mrs. Hughes had had a moment of worry when the maid had walked out a few times with one particular farmer's son up from York, Tim Drewe, who cut a more sophisticated figure than most of the local yokels. But Anna seemed to lose interest before things could go as far as an understanding, and he married another girl. That had been years now, and the housekeeper had become complacent, it seemed. And yet here was a man who couldn't even dance catching Anna's fancy—

Wrapping gauze around his leg as quickly as possible, she rose.

"Yes, Anna's been very kind," he said gloomily.

"She's not one to waste her time on someone who's not worthy," Mrs. Hughes said quietly. Her hands folded at her waist, she looked down on his bowed head.

What should she do about this?

"I want you to make a vow for me right now, Mr. Bates."

He raised his head. "Anything, Mrs. Hughes."

"Promise to never do something this silly again. You cannot cure yourself. What's done is done."

His gaze, which had held hope, turned melancholy. "What's done is done," he echoed.

"Are you going to promise me?" she demanded.

"I promise," he said but she didn't believe him.

"Come along then," she said briskly.

Confused, he pushed himself up from the chair and snagged his pants off the back. "Excuse me," he said with an much dignity as he could muster.

She turned away and listened to him get dressed with grunts of pain.

"Where are we going?" he asked when finished.

"To the far pond by the folly. It's nice and deep."

He still looked perplexed.

She nodded toward his discarded brace leaned against the wall. "So you won't get any bright ideas to go back on your vow."

He went to pick it up but winced.

Looking around, she found a green blanket to wrap the tortuous apparatus. "Can't be having anyone see this," she said, thinking Anna would probably be out in the corridor.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes," Bates said, opening the door for her.

"Let's take this down to the pond then and chuck it in," she said, tucking her bundle under her arm.

John Bates smiled, truly smiled, for the first time since she'd met him. A boyish grin spread across his well-traveled face and his hair flopped down across his brow before he swept it back. Mrs. Hughes had to admit that he possessed a certain charm.

ii. Thomas and Miss O'Brien

Still fuming from Mr. Bates shoving him into the wall and threatening him over some soppy footman, Thomas paced the courtyard, puffing on his cigarette.

Miss O'Brien hissed at him from the shadows: "What are you on about?" Tendrils of smoke rose above her head, twisting like her curls.

"That bastard Bates-"

"What's he done now?"

"Nothing," growled Thomas.

"Doesn't look like nothing," O'Brien noted.

"We've got to get rid of that bloke-"

"We?" she said silkily. "_I _was left behind to toil away while all the rest of you went to the fair."

Used to her complaining, Thomas just patiently pointed out: "You could have come."

"Like I want to go around some village fair with a bunch of bumpkins," she sneered. Then she gave a pained smile. "But it's just as well that I stayed behind."

He narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"The high and mighty Mr. Bates paid a call at the women's corridor door tonight."

"What the hell would he do that for?" sputtered Thomas.

"Unlike you, he apparently is interested in what lies on the other side. Or rather, one _lady_ in particular."

Thomas sidled up next to her. "Who?"

"Another virtuous soul, our very own Anna Smith."

Thomas hooted. "That pathetic old fool!"

O'Brien inhaled deeply from her cigarette. "I don't know about that. That little miss was there at the door in nothing but her nightdress and not bothering to hold her shawl too tightly, I'll tell you. Bare feet like some common farmgirl," she muttered.

"Oh my," Thomas said with a smirk.

"Indeed," agreed O'Brien.

"We must do our duty," Thomas decided. "And tell Mr. Carson."

"No worries. It'll be my pleasure," she said grimly.

iii.

Anna entered Mr. Carson's pantry and looked from the butler to Mrs. Hughes. It was the housekeeper's worried expression that gave it away.

Her little chin came up. "You wanted to see me, Mr. Carson?"

He gave a nod. "Close the door and take a seat, please, Anna."

Perching on the edge of a straight-backed chair, Anna wiped her nose with a handkerchief, still fighting off her cold. "What is it?" she said evenly.

The butler stood before her with his hands clasped behind his back. "It's been brought to my attention that a man came to the women's door last night and that it was unlocked for him. Do you know anything about this?" His deep voice resonated with great disappointment.

The maid's calm gaze remained level with his. "I have no idea. I was sick in bed all evening," she said. "Who's been saying this?"

Mrs. Hughes' breathing hitched. Her Anna was lying for a man. And the smart lass knew just how to get out of it; insinuate those malcontents Thomas and O'Brien were up to no good as usual.

Rocking on his large feet, Carson pursed his mouth. " I can't imagine you being a naughty girl, but you must understand, men have certain base urges and cannot be trusted-"

Mrs. Hughes was suddenly visited by hysteria bubbling up within her. She looked at Anna and could see the same fit of giggles threatening the maid.

Anna took a deep breath before speaking. "Yes, Mr. Carson. I completely agree. I don't trust Thomas in the least."

"That's not what I meant," sputtered Carson. "You are a very loyal friend, as you were with Gwen—"

"I'll say again what I said then; we have the right to our privacy." She raised an eyebrow and stared down the butler. "Secrets can be poisonous, wouldn't you say, Mr. Carson?"

Surprising Mrs Hughes, he relented. "Indeed, Anna."

The maid rose from the chair, her spine rigid with indignation. "I'll be going then. I'm still not feeling at full strength."

Mrs. Hughes finally spoke up. "Yes, my girl. Drink some tea with honey and have a sit."

A heavy moment of silence hung over the pantry after Anna closed the door sharply.

"I think that went as well as could be expected," Mr. Carson finally said.

Mrs. Hughes took the chair and tucked her feet under it. "If you say so, Mr. Carson."

He glowered. "None of this would have happened if you hadn't gone to that fair—"

"What, am I to lurk in a parapet now, up by the door? To keep Mr. Bates from being overcome by passion and bashing through?"

"You don't believe-"

"Then why are you accusing them?"

"I'm not accusing them of anything—Do you think something is going on?"

Her heart softened at the genuine concern she saw on his face. She had to look away when she lied too. "No, Mr. Carson."

"But something could happen?" he said with great perception.

She would concede that with a quick nod.

He made that familiar rumbling sound in his throat and changed the topic. "You enjoyed the fair?"

Now it was her turn to raise her chin. She wasn't quite ready to talk to him about Mr. Burns and her quandary. "Very much. Are we done here?"

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Hughes," he said quietly and she stormed out just as Anna had.

Later that evening, after supper was finished, Mr. Bates left the table before anyone else. The others slowly drifted away. In the corridor, Mrs, Hughes spotted Anna heading to the courtyard with a determined stride. Something told the housekeeper that the younger woman was on the hunt.

Taking her keys in hand so they wouldn't jingle, she followed. Just outside the door, still in the shadows, she slipped into the game locker, moving through the corpses of rabbits and pheasants hanging from the rafters until she was at the crack which afforded her both a view and a listening post. Over the years, Mrs. Hughes had learned that it did no good to ambush courting maids. It only flushed them out like wildly flapping woodcocks startled by spaniels. If she wanted information, she needed to be more stealthy...

Anna was ranting at Mr. Bates, "—Bleeding cow," as she paced.

He was trying to calm her. "Surely Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson would not believe such slander—"

"As though anything untoward was going on! Me with my head stuffed with cold and a red nose—"

Through the opening between the boards, Mrs. Hughes had an excellent vantage of John Bates' tall figure leaning on his cane. He was watching the little maid spinning before him.

The night was still and cold. His words were warm: "You were lovely."

That stopped Anna. She froze before him and looked up into his face. He leaned more heavily on his cane, as though a great weight had settled on his shoulders, but it made him loom over the young woman. Mrs. Hughes' breath caught.

Then he spoke again: "You should get back in. You're not free of that cold yet and I'd hate for it to settle in your chest."

Anna crossed her arms across her breasts as though he'd said something wicked.

"I must speak to Mr. Carson," Bates insisted. "I can't have him thinking that you were to blame—"

"I told you, it's got to be that Miss O'Brien—"

He nodded. "Nearly everyone was gone to the fair, even Mrs. Hughes. I asked Miss O'Brien if you'd had dinner. She must have followed me as I went up with the tray, the snoop—"

In her hiding place, Mrs. Hughes gave an exasperated sigh.

"Yours was simple kindness," Anna said, her voice flat as she turned away. "And they're trying to make it something dirty and foul."

The housekeeper could see Mr. Bates's expression and its painful yearning. But when Anna turned back, his bland mask was in place. "Please, Anna, go inside," he rasped.

"Just promise you won't confess to Mr. Carson," she demanded even as she headed toward the entrance. "There's no need. Truly."

"For now," he relented, taking a few halting steps after her. "But I won't see your virtue questioned—"

Mrs. Hughes could finally see Anna's face. The light of the first floor windows lit her features. She was smiling impishly. "I'll take care of my virtue, Mr. Bates. You just keep a watch for those two devils."

They passed within a foot of the housekeeper and she suddenly felt like a spy as low as Miss O'Brien. Right then and there, she decided to keep her counsel. Anna had been right; sometimes secrets should remain unsaid.

~ end part 1


	2. Chapter 2

_Spoilers: 1.5_

_Summary: All the sisters find out._

* * *

Gwen and Lady Sybil strolled through the West Gardens under the guise of admiring the chrysanthemum display after being inspired at the flower show. In reality, Sybil was set on persuading the maid to continue her job hunt, despite her objectives.

"It's just not to be, m'lady," insisted Gwen.

They were so involved that they didn't realize that Anna Smith was hunched on a bench in a dim glade. She was wiping her nose and looked up at them with red-rimmed eyes.

"Oh dear, Anna, is your cold back?" asked Gwen.

"No-I mean, I believe it's hay fever. With the harvests and all."

Guileless, Gwen pointed out, "You've never had hay fever before."

Sybil was more perceptive. "Are you feeling blue, Anna?" She sat beside the maid. "Is there something we can help you with?"

Anna stared up at the lowering sun, fighting back her tears. "No, thank you, my lady."

Gwen looked perplexed. Her ladyship placed a light hand on Anna's back. "You may be surprised," she said softly. "It sometimes help to share your troubles."

"Truly, there's nothing that can be done. It's just-not to be," Anna said, echoing her friend, but Sybil could tell the maid was concerned with a different sort of future than her career.

Anna stood, moving out of the younger woman's touch. "I should be getting back. Will you come with me, Gwen?"

Gwen quickly glanced at Sybil, who raised her eyebrows as a signal. "I'll stay here with Lady Sybil," she said, more as a question.

Anna finally gave them a smile. "Ah yes. You have plans to make." She hurried off with her quick step.

Gwen sat beside Sybil. "What's that about?" she asked.

"I assume it's about a boy. She hasn't mentioned anyone?"

"Goodness no!" Gwen said in all honesty. Her brow furrowed. "And some friend that makes me. I've been so involved with me own problems, Nothing makes Anna cry. In all the time I've known her, she's never taken any fellow seriously, but..."

"Indeed," said Sybil, with a wise nod of her head.

"But who could it be?" asked Gwen rhetorically.

Sybil sank into deep thought. "You would know the men below stair better than I would-"

"Trust me, there's no prospects there," Gwen told her gloomily. "Let me see...We go to the same dances, the fair...Surely I would have noticed if a farmer had turned her head, although I truly can't see her as a farmer's wife. You see, she reads, wishes to travel and discusses politics-" The girl's eyes went wide. "No! It can't be!"

Sybil wiggled on the bench in excitement. "Who?"

"No," Gwen repeated. "But- She's been his champion from the day he arrived and they sit together all the time in the servants hall even when it's just the two of them. And she's always going on about how cruel Thomas and Miss O'Brien are to him-"

"Bates?" gasped Sybil. Then she turned pensive. "He does have a mysterious air about him. And a woman always enjoys a good mystery-"

Gwen was already indignant for her friend. "But he's broken her heart! Or...perhaps he's been a brute with her?" she mused, fretful.

"I can't see that. He's so very polite," insisted Sybil.

Gwen shot her a jaundiced look. "Servants are often different to upstairs than down. But no, he's always been nothing but a gentleman that I've ever see." She flushed. "Our sort of gentleman, that is."

"No, I concur," Sybil said with a shake of her head. "He does not seem the sort to be beastly. So what could it be?"

Gwen glanced up at the darkening sky. "Oh dear! I best get in! I'll be late!"

"Find out what you can!" Sybil called after the fleeing maid. In deep thought, she rose as well and began to slowly stroll home.

* * *

Gwen peeked around the door to the room she and Anna shared. Anna was in her evening uniform but hadn't her apron and cap on yet. Her friend could tell that she had bathed her eyes and her determined expression was in place.

Tossing her hat on her bed, Gwen began to quickly change her clothes. "I'm going to be late and Mrs. Hughes will have me."

Anna tied her apron on and fluffed the ruffles. "She will indeed."

Despite being behind schedule, Gwen was overwhelmed with guilt. "I'm so sorry, Anna."

"For what?" Anna's flat gaze warned that she wanted no further discussion but Gwen was pulling her dress on over her head and didn't see it.

When her face popped out through the neck, she said. "All I do is go on about my hopes and dreams, and I've never asked about yours."

"'tis no matter," Anna said but Gwen kept at it.

"I mean, what are your hopes and dreams?" Her friend gave a sincere smile.

"Mr. Carson will ring the gong any minute now," Anna said desperately.

Gwen quickly tied on her apron. "You don't have any?" she asked sadly.

"It's not that," Anna said, standing before their small mirror with her cap and carefully placing it on her bright head.

"What is it then?"

"They just won't come true, it seems."

"Oh Anna-"

"Really, it's nothing. " She turned from the mirror, a smile pinned on as tightly as her cap.

Gwen was upset for her friend. She reached out a hand and after a moment of hesitation, Anna crumbled into her embrace.

"Mr. Bates hasn't done anything...wrong?" Gwen asked.

"Never!" insisted Anna. "That's the problem," she added, frustrated. "He says he can't even tell me how he feels but I told him how I feel and made a complete fool of myself."

Gwen patted Anna's back, unsure what to do. She'd never seen her friend like this. But then the spine under her palm stiffened.

"I don't regret telling Mr. Bates that I love him. Not in the least," Anna sniffled into Gwen's shoulder, "I took a risk and it failed but I'm a better person for it."

"Me as well," Gwen said, but neither sounded particularly convinced.

The gong sounded. "Must go," Anna said with false brightness and pulled away. Gwen yanked on her apron and cap and followed, clattering down the stairs.

* * *

After Anna completed the girls' hair and left the room, Edith and Mary returned to the sniping at each other. The tension had been festering in the room while their maid worked, but she had seemed preoccupied and hadn't asked after it. Still, they preferred to not argue in front of the servants.

"So you'll be going after Sir Anthony again?" sneered Edith. "Your prospects are dwindling."

Mary opened her mouth to fire off a retort. Desperate to stop the discord, Sybil broke in: "For all your squabbling over male admirers, the situation could be much worse," she said, gaining their attention. "Think of the poor serving girls with few decent suitors."

"Yes, one must always think of the servants," Mary said dryly.

"Take Anna for instance-" Sybil motioned toward the closed bedroom door.

"But Anna must have plenty of suitors," protested Edith from her chair. "She's pretty and such a fine worker. Why, she could even snare a village shopkeeper if she put her mind to it."

"She is to conduct her courtships on her half day?" Sybil pointed out.

"I should hope that I have better prospects than a housemaid," Mary said as she finished putting on her jewelry at her vanity table.

"That's not my meaning," Sybil said patiently.

"What is it then?" asked Mary, only half-curious. She was too involved with remembering the disappointment on Matthew's face and trying to find a way to not make it her fault.

"I believe that Anna is sweet on a fellow, but it's not to be."

Mary's pique turned to selfish anger. First Edith thought she could poach Mary's suitors and now Sybil was claiming to know their maid's heart? Anna had been _her_ maid first, a gift from her parents at seventeen, a rite of passage that meant she was a lady now. She'd always felt that the young servant was closest to her-after all, they'd dragged a body together through the gallery-but somehow Sybil knew all about some love affair?

"Really?" she drawled, her tone dripping with contempt.

Sybil only smiled sadly. "I found her in the garden after the flower show. She seemed very low and when I asked her what it was about, she said nothing, of course. I made a guess on it being about a man."

"And she laid her soul bare?" Edith sounded no more pleased than Mary. Sybil was the sort of person that people easily confided in and this irritated her.

"Who is it?" asked Mary.

"She wouldn't say. But..."

Her two sisters leaned forward.

"I believe it's Bates."

"Papa's valet?" questioned Edith, her brow furrowed.

"Of course," Sybil said, rolling her eyes.

"But he's old and lame!" gasped Mary.

"Not that old," protested Edith, for Bates was younger than Sir Anthony.

Mary gave her a withering look.

"What makes you say this?" she asked even as she heard Anna saying of Bates on his first day, 'he's not so very lame,' with gentle reproach in her voice.

Sybil began to tick on her fingers. "She's always at his side when the servants are at attention."

"It could be some archaic pecking order that Carson has set up. After all, Anna's the head housemaid and nearly a lady's maid," said Mary.

"Did she stand by Papa's last valet?" pointed out Sybil. "No."

"Perhaps she worrying about him falling," Edith suggested.

"Yes," said Mary, turning her attention back to her middle sister. "You'd know, wouldn't you? Dreaming of marriage to Sir Anthony...Having to give him your arm so he doesn't stubble and dabbing at his chin as he dribbles-"

Edith hopped out of the chair, her face furious. "He's a strong and vital man-"

Mary continued as though she hadn't heard her sister. "Poor Anna. The way old men go on and on, droning about dull topics..." She pierced Edith with her cold gaze. "Like rotating crops and the new harvesters on the market."

She stood and checked her hemline in the full length mirror. "Why would she toss her future away on that man? He can't possibly support her-she'll end up working her fingers to the bone to take care of him."

"You don't know that," protested Sybil. "I'm sorry I said anything," she muttered.

Mary wasn't paying any attention to her either. "I must do something about this," she said, putting her hands on her hips. Someday soon, she would be mistress of her own grand home, even if it was not to be Downton. She must be ready to deal with sticky situations concerning the servants.

Edith watched the wheels turn in her sister's mind. Perhaps if she were occupied with managing Anna's love life, Mary would leave Edith's alone. But in any case, she had a letter to write to the Turkish ambassador after dinner. The repercussions from that missive ought to keep Mary busy for years to come.

Sybil felt some relief as she followed her sisters out of the room. Mary was on a mission and even Edith seemed to be out of her sour humor.

* * *

After dinner, Mary shooed Edith and Sybil off to their bedrooms. "You can undress yourself," she told them. "I need privacy with Anna."

When her maid tapped on the door and entered, Mary was ready. She smiled at Anna sincerely.

"Such a long day," she started.

"Yes, but the outing was a nice change," Anna said, although her voice was dreary.

Mary turned away from her. "You walked from the Abbey?"

"Yes." Anna carefully undid the many tiny fastenings at the back of Mary's dress.

"All the servants walk together?"

"Yes." Anna motioned for Mary to step out of the dress, then scoop it up and laid it over her arm.

"Even Bates? It must be difficult for him."

Anna's voice was suddenly full of fire. "He does just fine. He's a bit slower, that's all."

Mary continued as the maid quickly assisted her in removing her undergarments. "So he is. One wonders how much longer he'll be able to keep up here in this big house for Papa. He must be thinking to his future; to find himself a more comfortable situation. Perhaps with someone to care for him."

Anna's face went pale and Mary had the distinct impression that the usually good-humored maid wanted to call her a very bad name. Instead, she stalked to the cupboard, Mary's delicate garments clutched in her white fists.

Mary slipped into her robe and sat before her vanity. "Speaking of that topic...what are your future plans?"

When Anna turned back after closing the cupboard, her features were under control. "It seems everyone's suddenly curious about that," she said dryly.

"I care very much about the lives of the servants," Mary protested, then saw this just the thing not to say. Anna's expression closed off even more.

"Thank you, my lady," she said formally as she began to take down Mary's hair.

"What I mean is," Mary said in a rush, "I don't want to see you unhappy."

"I'm happy," Anna insisted, the quiver in her voice belying her true feelings.

"As I am happy?" Mary said pointedly and her maid dissolved into giggles, unable to stay upset.

"I would not have your troubles for the world," Anna said in an unguarded moment and Mary felt the shock of indignation.

"Your burdens," Anna clarified, beginning to braid her mistress's hair. "I only want for a little cottage, a good husband, and our children." She focused on the dark tresses in her fingers. "I don't need to worry about finding the right man in the eyes of the world. Only the right man for me."

Mary stared at her visage in the mirror, deep in her own thoughts. "But what if the right man won't have you?"

A little sniffle brought her back to the room. "Well, that is a problem," choked out Anna.

"Oh dear," Mary said, feeling very ineffectual. She was stuck by a thought. "Perhaps Papa can have a talk with Bates. Man to man sort of thing. Find out what the problem is. Because truly, he's mad not to be over the moon that you should love him." She returned to her earlier track. "You could do so much better-"

Shocked, Anna held up her hands. "No, my lady! That is, please don't speak to your father." Her earlier spirit returned as well. "And there is no better man for me than Mr. Bates. He is all that I wish for."

"Truly?" Mary was flabbergasted.

"To you, his manner is as a servant. With me...He is a gentlemen."

"Well, there's your problem right off," Mary said bossily. "Perhaps his injury is more than we know..." She raised a questioning eyebrow.

Anna gasped in outrage. "Don't be daft." She shot Mary a sly glance before she fetched the nightclothes from the cupboard. Mary pulled a face in the mirror. She wasn't going to inquiry how her maid was so confident on that matter. Some things were best not pursued!

As Anna helped her ladyship into her nightgown and wrap, Mary grew more serious. "I feel responsible for you, Anna. I worry about you-"

Slipping back behind the invisible wall between them, Anna said formally, "That's very thoughtful of you, my lady."

Mary sat before the vanity again and began to apply cream to her face. "You care for all of us so well-"

"Thank you." Anna stood at attention, waiting for her next task.

"Perhaps you are looking for someone of your very own to care for?" Mary suggested delicately.

"No, my lady," said Anna, each word brittle.

"Please explain then. I want to understand," urged Mary, turning to face her.

The maid dared to perch on the end of the bed, just like one of Mary's sisters would. "He cares about what I have to say. He _really _listens. You know how a bloke will seem like he's listening, but he's just waiting for you to finish so he can pontificate?"

Mary nodded with a bitter little smile.

"He listens," Anna repeated. Tears shimmered in her eyes. "That makes him a strong, whole man to me. He makes me feel...As though I have some purpose in this world...I just don't know what it is yet, but it's tied to him." Her small hand balled in a fist and pressed to her chest.

"I understand now," Mary said, rising from her vanity table.

Her maid hopped up as well. "With that be all, my lady?" she asked, back in her role.

"Yes, thank you," said Mary as she flipped over the cover on her bed. "And I won't say a word to Papa, I swear."

"Thank you," said Anna, the twinkle back in her eyes. She blew out the candle and left her mistress in the darkness, closing the door quietly behind her.

Mary settled back on her pillows. When she closed her eyes, the image of John Bates bending over Anna, listening to her bright chatter shimmered and changed to Matthew's rapt gaze on her as she spoke to him. No, he wasn't just waiting for her to fall silent either.

"Oh hell," she said to the night.

~end Part 2


	3. Chapter 3

_Spoilers: Set in S1 after the snuff box flap but before the wine whine._

* * *

The Earl shed his evening jacket for his valet. "How long has it been, Bates? A year now?" You've settled in well then?" he asked conversationally.

Bates draped the jacket over the wooden suit stand, brushing away a bit of lint from the shoulder. "Nearly two years, m'lord," he corrected gently. "And how I'm suiting would be for you to say. But I am quite happy in my position, yes."

"I'm glad to hear that," Robert said, popping the buttons on his waistcoat and tugging loose his tie.

There was companionable silence as Bates slipped the vest from his shoulders, then removed his cufflinks and shirt studs before taking off his starched collar.

"If you're feeling as though this may be a good situation for you, perhaps you should put down some roots," mused Robert.

"M'lord?"

"Your wife...What was her name?"

Bates started violently, then replied: "Vera, m'lord."

"Yes, that's right. Quite a vivacious woman."

"That she is," Bates said with a flat voice.

"Before we leave for the Season, I could check into getting you a cottage. You could bring her back from London and set up housekeeping." Robert felt very magnanimous. Nothing like a spot of domesticity to keep the servants happy.

But his valet said, "That won't be necessary, m'lord," as he smoothly slipped Robert's shirt off. There was an edge to Bates' voice that pulled him up short.

"Ah, I see." He unbuttoned his trousers and after they dropped, stepped out of them. "There's someone else."

Bates didn't reply as he retrieved the trousers, only taking extra care as he folded them on a hanger.

"It's a local girl and that would make things uncomfortable," surmised his lordship, shedding his undershirt and pulling on his pajamas. .

"Not exactly, m'lord. But it would certainly make things uncomfortable if Mrs. Bates were to come to Downton."

"Not exactly, and yet the two should not meet?"

With a sigh, Bates turned away from the cupboard and unhooked his cane from his forearm to lean upon. He explained: "That is to say, the local girl...It's not a situation which can go further than it has with Mrs. Bates still my legal wife."

Robert sat on the edge of the bed. He was intrigued. He always assumed that servants had greater freedom than their betters to take pleasure where need be. Before his marriage, he'd envied that presumed liberty.

"How far has it gone?" he asked carefully.

Gripping the cane's hook with both hands until his knuckles went white, Bates hung his head. "Further than it should."

"Will there be trouble, Bates? Should I be prepared for a father with his old muzzle-loader to show up?" Robert asked, only half in jest.

"No, nothing like that." Bates shook his head. "I can't allow it to go anywhere in that direction. It's just...Our hearts have gone too far, you may say."

"You always were more romantic than I ever could manage," his lordship lamented. "If only I'd had you to write my love letters when I was wooing her Ladyship."

Bates barked a rough laugh.

Robert allowed himself to think a bit more on this. "But you don't get out to the village much, and you're not one to hang about the tenant farms...A girl within the house?"

His valet turned back to the cupboard and straightened the already perfectly aligned clothing before selecting Robert's robe from a hanger.

"Let's see..." Robert began to catalog the maids and kitchen staff. He prided himself on knowing all his servants on sight and name. He had to tease a bit. "Not Miss O'Brien!"

Bates was having none of it. "No, m'lord."

As he ticked through the list of females available, his lordship looked up at the long-suffering man servant, to his sad eyes and drooping expression. It could not be. It simply could not. But there was no one else who fit the bill for a man with the intellect and tastes as John Bates.

Anna Smith had come to this house as a wide-eyed fourteen year old girl. She'd darted about with her scullery buckets and brushes, and was promoted to a housemaid within the year. She'd been the easy choice to serve his daughters. Robert Crawley had taken a paternal pride in Anna as an example in all that could be right about service. Her skin was clear, her hair clean, her teeth whole and strong, her eyes bright, her figure slim but not gaunt. She could hold an intelligent conversation with all, and yet was a soul of discretion. He had always joked that she had the best judgment of anyone in the house, excluding Mrs. Hughes.

His mouth fell open and his former batman's shoulders slumped in shame, acknowledging that he'd guessed right. "Why, you sly bastard!" he said with a grin.

Bates drew himself up as tall as his leg would allow and glowered down on his master. "As I said, m'lord, nothing untoward has occurred. I would never-"

Robert held up his hand to slow the valet's wrath. "I meant that you were able to capture such a prize, that is all."

"Yes, m'lord. I cannot believe it myself," Bates said gloomily, the bland visage back in place.

"And if you haven't at least gotten a kiss, you're a damn fool."

"How could I?" Bates said, the passion returning to his voice. "To pull her into my adulterous ways-"

Standing to accept the offered satin bed robe, Robert rolled his eyes. "If she shares your feelings, that horse has well and truly run from the barn. You might as well get your kiss rather than trying to close the doors."

His valet's only response was: "Yes, m'lord. Will there be anything else?"

"Not for me. But you need to-" Robert started to say, but stopped when he wasn't quite sure what to suggest. With the first Mrs. Bates lurking out there somewhere, there was really little that his manservant could do if he chose to be honorable. And for all his joking about a kiss, he could not encourage Bates to seduce and ruin a fine young woman. Or to divorce-It was blasted difficult, and even then, not many women would marry a man with such a black mark beside his name.

"I'll be going then. Good evening." Bates dissolved from the room with quiet dignity

Tightening his robe's cord, Robert went into his wife's bedroom. Putting aside her magazine, she noticed his pensive expression right off.

"What has you so thoughtful?" she asked.

Shedding his robe, Robert flipped back to the covers on his side of the bed. "I've had some rather shocking news."

"Shocking? You have intrigued me, my dear." She curled onto his chest, but her eyes were still bright and questioning.

"Bates... Well, I don't know if I should tell."

She gave him a gentle swap. "Robert, you can't stop now."

He told himself that his wife was in charge of the house, particularly staff, thus _must_ hear the news.

Draping an arm around Cora and drawing her closer, he told her: "Bates and Anna are in love."

"Anna who?"

"The girls' maid," he said, exasperated.

"Our Anna? And that..." Cora stopped herself as she felt Robert tense under her. "You must admit, my dear, he's not the first choice for such a young girl. O'Brien says-"

"First off, I don't give a damn what that woman says," he grumbled. "To your other point, Anna is Mary's age, and you're fretting that our daughter has been on the shelf much too long and are tossing her at a man older than myself!"

"Yes, but it's different with servants." She toyed with the buttons on his pajama top. "Will they marry? Will we lose her? That would be a shame. The girls adore her."

"No..." The tension was back in her husband, but it was not from anything she had said. "It can't go any further," he said, and there was distress in his voice.

She reached for her light. "Well, then-"

"It's very sad, now that I think of it," Robert said in the darkness. "I should have offered to help but I was too astonished."

"Help?"

"It's nothing, my dear," he said, rolling to kiss her and she soon forgot about servants' love lives.

* * *

After Robert left her bedroom the next morning to dress, Cora ruminated over her morning tea.

"O'Brien," she said to her maid, "how are things in the servants' hall since his lordship's snuff box has been found? I'm sure some were nervous."

At her vanity sorting necklaces in their box, O'Brien's back stiffened. "There's great relief," she said in her careful way.

"You had seemed so certain that it was Bates," Cora pointed out.

"Well, he who has access to remove it, has access to replace it," O'Brien said, turning next to aligning her mistress's cream jars on the vanity top.

Cora nibbled at her toast and watched her maid. "His lordship never accepted that it may be Bates."

O'Brien gave her a tight smile as she glided to the cupboard. "Men are men. Will stick together."

"True..." Cora found that she couldn't let this go. "Is there any other trouble with him below stairs?" She monitored her maid's expression carefully as O'Brien laid out the morning clothes for her. "With the maids?"

O'Brien's head shot up. Cora smiled encouragingly.

The lady's maid's features set in a grim mask. "I did see-"

"Yes?"

"He was at the women's corridor door one night."

"Trying to gain access?" Cora gasped.

"He didn't have to try. It was opened for him."

Her ladyship set her cup in its saucer with a clank. "By whom?"

"I'd like not to say," O'Brien said silkily but Cora was a step ahead. She wanted to assure that Bates was no Lothario, but just endangering one of the housemaids. "Anna?" she asked in that tone that broached none of O'Brien's evasions.

Her maid nodded, her mouth set primly.

"I suppose she feels sorry for him," Cora said, sinking back into her pillows. "Nothing more dangerous to a woman than a man who needs her." She gave a self-deprecating laugh, looking around the magnificent bedroom. She'd met a man once who'd needed her.

O'Brien was seeing an opportunity here. "It is worrisome, m'lady. Anna is usually a sensible enough girl," she said grudgingly. "To be led astray by this man-"

"Did he enter the women's corridor?"

"No, m'lady. He gave Anna a dinner tray. It was when she was ill. Complete with a little bouquet of flowers," she finished with contempt.

She turned away to retrieve a pair of shoes and didn't see Cora's pitying expression. Her ladyship reflected that there was a difference between a virgin and a spinster and her lady's maid was it. As unsure as Cora was about her husband's valet, she could see nothing but kindness in his gesture and as she feared, it was a sign that their feelings were more than mere lust. Love was much more difficult to manage with servants. She may have to appeal to a higher authority for guidance.

* * *

The Dowager Countess lowered her teacup to its saucer and furrowed her brow in confusion. "Who's Bates?"

"He's Robert's valet!" explained Cora. "He's been here for two years!"

Violet thought more. "That tall man with the stick?"

"Yes!" Cora said, exasperated.

"How much trouble can he be then? Anna's a strapping country girl, even if she's small. If he gets fresh, she can just kick that cane out from under him." The matter was settled for the Dowager. She turned her attention to the cakes' tray that Thomas had thoughtfully placed on the table beside her before being dismissed by the Countess.

Cora tried to clarify her concern: "It seems she shares his affections."

"Ah, that's the servants for you. They believe in love." Violet focused piercingly on Cora who recalled that her mother-in-law disapproved of being in love even if was between her son and his wife.

"I'm concerned that she'll be a poor influence on the girls-"

Swallowing a bite from a tasty cake, the Dowager reacted with outrage. "Such as our virtuous Mary? Or Edith with her own old man? Or Sybil with her modern ideas? If anything, we should be trying to protect Anna from them!"

Cora slumped on the sofa. This woman was of no help. "I just wonder that she's filling the girls' heads with ideas about romantic love and pining for the unattainable," she stressed.

"Anna a good girl," the older woman said knowingly. "She won't overstep her place."

"I suppose," Cora said with a sigh.

"Don't be surprised if they don't just run off though, no matter how sensible they seem to be," warned the Dowager. "We had a coachman; faithful as a dog. Then he took a fancy to the governess, and poof!" She flung her hands in the air. "Gone one night, leaving us completely helpless! No one to drive us or to teach the children! I say that's why Rosemund still can't conjugate French verbs. Took us forever to replace that woman."

"Yes, there's that worry." Cora said. "Robert simply adores that man; don't ask me why-"

Violet shrugged. "Men claim women are mysterious, but it is they who are. No idea why they do anything that they do, set in their ways, resistant to change..."

Cora bit hard on her retort. Finally, she said, "We'll just have to see what happens. I don't dare embarrass Mrs. Hughes and Carson by bringing this to their attention. They'd be mortified if they realized what two of their own were up to-"

Outside the drawing room door, Thomas lurked by the crack that he'd left it open as he'd left. It was a particular talent he'd acquired over the years, to pull the door shut so it made a distinct latching noise, but then quickly push back as to leave it ajar.

"What are they on about?" O'Brien murmured at his shoulder. Despite her low tone, he still started.

"This thing with Anna and Mr. Bates," he whispered back.

"I tried to give her the idea that they may be acting dishonorably, but she didn't seem to take my meaning," the maid grumbled, "sometimes m'lady can be a vague cow."

Thomas stepped away, drawing her with him. "I was thinking...We can use this. If Bates marries her, they'll both have to leave-"

"You believe that?" O'Brien gave him a thin smile. "More likely, his lordship will strew rose petals on the way to a tenant cottage for them."

Thomas thought about what he'd just overheard the Countess and Dowager discussing. His hope died. "Damn," he growled.

The lady's maid nodded. "I say we continue with the stolen wine plan. That's sure to work. Carson cares much more about that wine than any old snuffbox. He'll fight for it."

Exchanging a smirk, the conspirators melted away from the drawing room, intent on their plotting.

~ end Part Three


	4. Chapter 4

_Spoilers: Through S1.7_

Mr. Carson welcomed Bates into his pantry and closed the door. Mrs. Hughes had given him an assignment, but he had decided that for once, he was not the best man for the job. No, it required a lighter touch. He offered Mr. Bates a glass of port. The valet declined and Carson winced at his stupidity, pouring tea instead.

"Dark days ahead," he rumbled, falling back on the main topic of conversation in the Abbey.

"Indeed," Bates said, sipping his tea.

"Not just for the nation, but in this house. We're going to lose nearly every footman and hallboy and God knows how many of the outside staff." Carson shook his head with regret.

"It has to be done," Bates said tonelessly.

Carson glanced up from studying his teacup's dregs to notice the former soldier's far-off stare. "Of course," he said soothingly and refilled their cups. "We all have our obligations though, no matter where we serve."

The valet remained silent but nodded decisively.

Carson had guessed right by appealing to Bates' sense of duty. Pleased, he continued, "But for the moment, it appears that an unfortunate situation has developed-"

Bates cleared his throat. "Mr. Carson, I can explain-"

Holding up a large hand, the butler stopped him. "It's not your own particular circumstance. It's Tom Branson."

"What's happened?"

"Mrs. Hughes is concerned that he's developed a tendre for Lady Sybil."

Bates didn't look surprised, making Carson clench his jaw. Had the manservant heard something from Anna, but they had kept it from he and Mrs. Hughes?

He answered the question before Carson could ask. "Young Branson is not one to hide his feelings," said Bates with a slight smile.

"I had not noticed this attachment," huffed Carson.

Bates' smile turned bittersweet. "Perhaps I just know the signs better than you."

This was just the opening for which Carson had been looking. "That's why I've asked you here."

"What can I do to help?" asked Bates.

"Have a chat with Branson."

"A chat?" The valet shifted in his chair, stretching his bad leg out.

"About the futility of his feelings."

Bates drained his cup and clanked it on the saucer with a sense of finality. "I'm sure he's aware of that."

Carson peaked his fingertips and glowered from under his heavy brow. "If he is, it's not stopping him. I need to you convince him. You realize that he can lose his position over this."

"Am I the right person?" Bates focused on his boot's tip as though it was the most fascinating thing in the room.

"I could do it, but it would be as hearing a lecture from the headmaster. Remember how we tuned those out?" said Carson.

Glancing at the butler, Bates nodded warily.

"Think of yourself as that favorite tutor with whom a lad could comfortably confide," suggested Carson, smiling convincingly.

"I can try-" Bates hauled himself up from the chair. "But I'm not making any promises."

* * *

Anna and Mrs. Hughes planned a small fete for Gwen leaving the Abbey, but it quickly expanded to include all the other staff members joining the services. As the housekeeper grimly pointed out, there would be little time and resources for parties in the future and they should take the opportunity in the present.

It was arranged for late in the day, after the Crawleys had an early supper and was set in the lower gardens so not to disturb the family. The Earl came down to say a few reassuring words to all the young men and few women preparing to leave. Matthew Crawley arrived from the village dressed in his new uniform to also give encouragement. He would leave for officer training soon as well. Mary did not join the gathering.

Tom Branson stayed on the periphery of the crowd. He had no interest in answering questions about how soon he was joining up and then to hear the reaction to his answer. Now John Bates was bearing down on him. That gentleman had always been willing to calmly discuss Branson's politics, not like Mr. Carson or Thomas; he had Irish blood in him after all, and although he'd attend the Church of England services with the other servants, had a St. Christopher's medal on his watchchain fob. But he was a former soldier-

"Good evening, Mr. Branson," Bates said.

"Evening," Tom said shortly.

"Going to stay for the fireworks?" the valet asked.

"My mate is putting them on. I offered to help; given my expertise," Branson said. Both men chuckled.

Bates nodded toward the great dark bulk of the Abbey on the dim horizon. "His lordship and Mr. Crawley have gone back to the big house. They'll miss the show."

"Right, they glad-handed everyone and cleared out," Tom said, still belligerent.

The older man only smiled at his cheek. "Which means we can have our fun now." He motioned toward the wooden platform lit by flickering lanterns. "Dancing is starting soon. You'll have to take a whirl."

Branson shrugged. "Not likely."

"Many a lovely maid," pointed out Bates.

Squinting at him, Tom said slowly, "I hadn't noticed."

"You're too young not to notice pretty girls anymore." Bates' friendly grin took any sting from his words.

Understanding dawned for Branson. "Just so long as it's not one particular pretty girl," he suggested grimly.

The valet leaned on his cane but still loomed over the shorter man. "There are rules of service," he said patiently, "and one is you can notice, but never show that you have."

Tom crossed his arms tightly. "Has Lord Grantham put you on me?"

"If his lordship had any sniff of this, the three of us would be going for a long walk down a dark lane," Bates said, his tone gentle and it took a moment for his meaning to sink in for Tom. "But as it is, I'm speaking to you now, man to man..." His smile became self-deprecating. "Let me just say that I'm offering you the benefit of my hard-earned experience."

The tension eased from Tom's stance. "You fallen for an upper stairs girl, Mr. Bates?"

"God, no." His dignified shudder suggested that he found the idea preposterous. "They're too much much work by half. Can't even buckle their own shoes."

Tom bit back a reply. The dancers had taken to the tiny platform and their stamping feet shook the timbers. Bates turned to face him. "But I can tell you this. If you truly hold a woman in great esteem, you would be willing to do anything for her-"

"Of course," insisted Tom.

Bates started watching the dancers. His voice became rough. "And that means to give her up if necessary. Sacrifice all your feelings and dreams for her future."

Fighting his protests, Tom looked at the revelry too. Mrs. Patmore pranced with a brave and hearty gardener. Daisy, barely reaching William's shirt's middle button, was doing a dignified jig. Anna spun in the arms of the head groom, a strapping fellow with curly black hair. But her gaze found the two men standing off to the side and her smile widened.

Tom saw that Bates was returning the smile, causing his own grin to form. But when the older man glanced his way, he schooled his features to disinterest.

"But what if her future should include you?" Branson argued.

Rocking on his feet, Bates said, "I was a young man once myself. Thought that I was in love. She was a dark lass such as Lady Sybil, laughed at my every word, and it all seemed so simple."

"Did you marry her?" Branson asked, surprised at the depth of emotion in the valet's usually controlled manner.

"Yes." Bates was watching the dancers again. Anna was passing from hand to hand of hallboys in an improvised reel.

Tearing himself away, he pinned Tom with his intense gaze. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Branson admitted his confusion with a shrug.

Clearing his throat, Bates stated: "As I said, I was a young man once... With a young man's needs."

Branson flushed. "Mr. Bates, I admire Lady Sybil greatly. It's not about needs."

Bates gave an uncomfortable sigh. "Good," he finally said.

"Fireworks are going to start soon," Branson said, changing the topic quickly. "I better head over to give Gregory a hand with that." His relieved smile flashed in the darkness.

"Good evening then," said Bates, his voice distant. "I think I'll head to bed."

* * *

Joseph Moseley waited at the edge of the dance floor as Anna and Gwen finished foxtrotting together, then collapsed in giggles. A waltz was struck up by the rag-tag orchestra.

"May I have this dance?" he asked Anna.

She and Gwen exchanged smiles, but she accepted his hand. As they moved around the floor, a prescribed six inches between their bodies, she chatted pleasantly about the party and weather, but he could never turn the conversation to a more personal bend.

He'd been watching her all evening and she'd never given any chap more than one dance. The beau that Mr. Bates seemed to know about had not made an appearance. Joseph had been thinking on this since his conversation with the valet during the garden party. Without a public understanding, it seemed to him that Anna Smith was still available. After all, just because a bloke was keen on a girl didn't mean she reciprocated those feelings. He certainly knew that from experience.

He was feeling well settled in the Crawley household and the Dowager Countess had assumed him that he would not be called up. Perhaps this man interested in Anna would leave for the war, giving him an open field...

As the music ended, Anna thanked him for the dance but she was already looking around as if seeking another partner.

"It's such warm evening," he garbled. "Would you care for some punch?"

"Oh, no thank you-" Before he could think of what to say next, she'd slipped into the crowd. She exchanged greetings with friends, but seemed to have a purpose as she left the party-makers behind and strode across the lush lawn toward the folly, a black form against the night sky.

After a moment's hesitation, he followed, keeping his distance. He had no definite plan to confront her lover. He just simply wanted to know who it was and would then decide if pursuing Anna was worth a shot.

A boom of a fireworks burst over the pond, lighting the water bright red. Anna's pace quickened. She was approaching a large figure in the shadow of a willow at the water's edge.

Moseley stopped, sinking deeper into the shadows himself. Years of service had taught him how to stand completely still and silent, to the point where his betters forgot he was there. He used that skill now.

"Mr. Bates, why are you off here by yourself?" asked Anna.

The valet started. "Thought I'd head back to the house," he replied. "Can't dance, after all."

Another rocket exploded and the sky went green and blue. He trembled and Anna grabbed his hand. "What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said.

"Seems to be something." She stroked his dark sleeve, still holding his hand.

"I'm just being silly," he grumbled.

When another flare went off, she dared to tug him closer. "Not at all," she said soothingly.

"You should get back to the others." He motioned to the bright lights by the refreshments' tables. "Enjoy the show."

"I can see it here," she said.

"I'm not fun though," he lamented.

"Let me be the judge of that."

After a long moment of silence, Bates lifted her pale fingers to his lips, brushing them lightly. "Thank you," he murmured.

She breathed: "You know that I would do anything for you—"

He placed her hand gently at her side and stepped back. "No, Anna, it's not right. I'm a married man. I shouldn't be sullying you in this way—"

Moseley gasped, but the couple was too focused on each other to notice.

Anna placed her hands on her hips and glared up at Bates. "It pleases me to be in your company. I need to be with you; you're not _sullying_ me—"

Of all things, he laughed and she looked more furious. "Don't you mock me, Mr. Bates—"

He held up his hands. "No, no; I'm laughing at myself. Just a bit ago, I was trying to convince someone that I'm a mature man who's left any such needs behind—"

She folded her arms and tossed her head back, her good humor returned. "Perhaps you have, Mr. Bates, but I haven't."

He met her challenge with a wide grin; such an open expression as Moseley had never seen him give.

"I will not make that mistake again."

"What mistake is that?"

"To forget your needs," he said, low.

Her defiance dissolved and she dropped her face, a shy girl again. Bates stepped closer, and the maid's bright light, all pale skin and glowing hair, was swallowed in his dark bulk. Moseley breathing felt trapped in his throat.

Bates was shuddering and it wasn't from the pounding fireworks. Grasping one of his hands again, Anna clutched it close.

"We can't..." Bates whispered urgently, even though he didn't seem aware of the other man's presence.

"Can't what?" Anna murmured, her usually gentle voice rough-edged. "Kiss each other?"

"No we cannot!" Moseley was surprised to hear the usually unflappable Bates overwrought.

She hummed and lifted his hand, skimming her body with his knuckles as she brought it upward. He curled his fingers into a fist, like a turtle retracting into its shell. She tucked it under her chin, nestling his hand at her pulse. "Kissing does show adulterous intent, that's true," she said, breathless. "But if...I were to...Say kiss your hand, it's not us engaging in sinful activity. After all, you kissed mine earlier. Just a Continental way of parting."

Her face tipped up to meet Bates' pleading gaze and her clear features were lit rose-red by the explosions. He seemed frozen. She lifted his large hand, still tightly clutched, the final inches to her mouth and pressed her lips to his palm at his thumb.

When she peeked up at him, her cheeks now bright with a blush, he managed a smile. "Such a naughty girl," he rasped, "looking for a way around the rules. What would Reverend Travis say if he were here?"

"He's not," she pointed out, an edge to her words.

Bates' smile quirked, finally free of his pain. His fist unfurled so that he could stroke her cheek. Her fingers were still tangled with his, and he bent to trace his mouth along the inside of her wrist.

She gasped, "I don't know if that's quite right, though, Mr. Bates. Do the French kiss each other there?"

Bates' smile became a roguish grin. Moseley took a step toward them, believing he may have to defend Anna's honor.

Bates dropped his heavy head toward Anna's and there was a flash of pink as she quickly licked her lips, but instead of a kiss on the mouth, he grazed the lightest of kisses on her knuckles. "I'm so very sorry, m'lady. I will endeavor to give satisfaction in the future."

Anna swayed toward him. "Promise?"

His smile disappeared, replacing by a painful yearning. Leaning over her so that Moseley couldn't see Anna's face anymore, he spoke too low to be heard. But the slump of her shoulders telegraphed what she was being told.

The finale of the fireworks suddenly erupted, turning the sky bright and deafening Moseley. He shrank back against the tree in case they could see him in the light, but Mr. Bates was already walking away. Anna strode back to the other revealers, passing just a few feet away. He thought about reaching out to give her some comfort, but didn't.

He felt as though he'd been just been to one of those tents that set up at the back of the fair. Men would pay ten pence, and each would stand at a hole in the canvas to watch a couple inside. They would snuggle and kiss briefly, all in an exaggerated manner that suggested something much more racy was about to happen, exciting the viewers. But before they could even just kiss properly, a curtain would drop, ending the show.

It was as when he hurried away from the tent-ashamed and yet unsatisfied. And as though he should tell no one what had just occurred.

~ end, Part Four


	5. Chapter 5

_Summary: The wife is always the last to know; set before S2.1_

* * *

The door on Margaret Bates' house was bright green, glowing like a fine jewel among the row of dull homes along Dudley Lane. Green for envy and jealousy, thought Vera as she mounted the stoop. She saw the world in colors now, and those shades were portents. Ma Bates had been jealous of her son's wife and envious of the younger woman's love of life. And where had that gotten her now? Black closing in around her…

Vera lifted the shiny brass door knocker. Bright as a wedding ring—

After his shock passed, the last thing she expected to see on her husband's pumpkin-shaped face was joy. But then he asked, "What are you doing here?" His bulk blocked the entry.

"Me mam is dying-"

"She's not your mother, Vera. And I want her last days to be peaceful."

She pushed past him; curtains were flicking up and down the street as one and all took in the show.

"If they aren't peaceful, it'll be your fault," she said airily.

Always before, he would have flared back at her like bacon fat spilled on the stove flame. This time, his gaze remained steady and his features unmoved. He only said, "She's sleeping now."

"I'll have some tea then," Vera said, entering the parlor and taking a seat, obviously expecting to be waited on. After a moment, he headed to the kitchen. While he was gone, she cataloged the contents of the room and their value. The elder Mrs. Bates had a number of fine things from the old country and they should sell well at auction.

He returned with a tea tray, his steps halting without the aid of his cane. She didn't bother to hide her disgust but again, his face remained unchanged.

Once she'd poured out two cups, he asked once more, "What are you doing here?"

"Can't I offer support to my husband in his time of need?"

He took a deep sip of his tea but did not shoot back with a caustic comeback as he would have in the past. Finally he spoke. "What I need is to move on with my life and I think you do too."

Now it was time for her to ask questions. "What does that mean?"

"You've made a life for yourself elsewhere, I assume," he said carefully. "And I have as well. I think it's time to make that permanent. Start fresh."

"At your age?" she sneered. "Powdering some Earl's bum is a new life for you, I suppose-"

"It suits me," he said levelly. "And you must have found something that's kept you well enough-"

"Oh, I've been here and there," she said, smiling into her teacup. "I've even gone into service myself. Your name opens doors."

His brow furrowed. "My name?"

"You work for a very important family, you know."

"They're just the family to me," he said with the most warmth she'd heard in his voice in a very long time.

She smiled again. "Like your own?"

He glanced up to the ceiling. "They are all I have now." He stood. "I'd better check on mam."

Vera allowed herself a little laugh after he left. Her information would come in very handy for certain. Rising, she went to inspect the rest of the ground floor's rooms.

* * *

John's dragging footfall was heavy on the stairs. He glanced at the empty table in the small dining room. Vera raised her eyebrows. He hadn't expected her to prepare supper?

Saying nothing, he sat heavily at the head of the table, his large hand ghosting over the gleaming mahogany. Usually Ma Bates had a lace tablecloth on it, but she hadn't been downstairs in weeks.

"Not long now," he said, gray tears on his words. His features shimmered, then his jaw tightened, holding his emotions in check.

This crippled and bent man who sat before her made Vera feel old and that wouldn't do at all. She recalled when he had been a tall lad with a brooding dark gaze and the sly smile had held such promise. The housemaid she was then had snatched up her shiny prize greedily, only to have him turn into this tarnished half penny. But she'd kept the winsome maid with her. At first she had been irritated by the voice in her head, but now she'd found that her past self was the best company she could find.

_How pathetic he is. Don't be seen with him on the street. If anyone knew he was your husband it would be humiliating..._

"So what do you want us to do?" she said, her words red-hot in the dim room.

He glanced at her quickly.

"When your mother's dead," she clarified, twisting her knife-sharp lips. The maid laughed but he just contracted his nostrils as though catching a whiff of some stench.

Finally, he exhaled. "I think we should divorce."

She shook her head violently. "I won't be seen as some-"

_Slut. Whore._

He gave her a gentle smile. "You will just as you are now. Mrs. Bates, whose husband works far away. Just if you were to wish to marry again-"

"Who would have me? A divorced woman?"

"Say you're widowed."

She traced a random pattern in the tablecloth with her fork tines. White linen, like a shroud, for the truth. "What will I do for support?"

"You haven't needed my support these past five years-" He pulled himself up, that control back in place. Looking around the room as though seeing it for the first time, he said with determination, "I'll find a way."

She smiled. The maid smiled too. But she wanted more than money.

Vera rose from the table and cleared. When she returned, John was still seated, staring at the glowing coals on the grate. "Got a spot of something?" she said.

He spoke without looking up. "I think Mam has some whiskey somewhere..."

With that finely tuned sense, Vera searched and found a dusty bottle. When she went to fill the glass before him, he covered it with his hand.

_Nancy boy. Too soft to even take his liquor. _

He watched her drain the bottle, glass after glass. The last mouthful made her ill, but she swallowed it heartily. Her smile was slow. She looked him over.

"Are we in the front bedroom?"

His mouth pursed. "Don't, Vera."

She lolled her head back and fixed her gaze on him from under her eyelashes. "Did that shrapnel get ya' pecker along with your leg? You've not touched me in..." She tried to do the addition and gave up. "Years."

Bored, he said, "I don't fancy to catch the French pox from you."

She spat and he dodged with studied practice. "I'll be with my mother," he said, leaving her.

The maid laughed cruelly but Vera didn't know if it was at her or John.

* * *

The funeral was on a rainy day, giving Bates an opportunity to be as glum as possible. But to Vera, a rainbow of bright colors arched over the cemetery.

He went to a lawyer's office, leaving her alone in his mother's house. She wandered from room to room, irritated and fidgety. She wasn't able to find any more alcohol.

_Go on. Take the crystal paperweight. He's got no need for it._

After slipping it in her apron pocket, she sat in the parlor and picked the beads off a pillow until she heard the front door open. Turning the pillow over, she went to meet him.

He actually grinned at her. "Vera, I think I'm going to make you a happy woman at last."

He slowly explained that although he didn't have specific terms yet, there would be a settlement for her. The room glowed orange, wavering as grain at harvest.

"I must return to Downton," he said. "I'm needed there with the war on-"

Impatient, she railed, "That soft-handed toff can't button his own drawers without you?"

Taking a breath, John told her, "It's my job. If I give you my money, I will need to retain it."

"I don't care."

"I know you don't. But I do," he said evenly. "I'll write to you once I have specifics from the lawyer. Where shall I find you?"

She drew up.

_He's tossing you out like trash._

Black with red shadows flickered across her vision but she managed to maintain control. "I'll be with my cousin, Molly Travers, in Ellis Mews. You can write to me there."

He nodded. "We should go then. Lock the house up," he said pointedly.

As he limped down the street in the direction of King's Cross, his bag swinging at his side, Vera went the opposite way, to the corner pub and its ladies' lounge. Once inside, she recognized a woman nursing a glass of sherry by the window from the funeral. After placing her order at the bar, she offered a smile to the woman and was rewarded with its return."Yer were at me mother's funeral," Vera said leadingly. "Thank you so much for your comfort in our time of need."

"I di'n't know Mrs. Bates had a daughter," said the woman, "she never mentioned on it."

"By marriage. Her boy is my man." Sitting, Vera sipped her port as soon as it was placed before her.

Doggedly, the woman said, "I di'n't know Mr. Bates was married."

"It's been a time since I could be around," said Vera. She wiped her gloved fingers on her skirt and offered her hand.

"Mrs. Bartlett."

The two women murmured pleasantries of greeting and the sadness of the occasion, then chatted easily with neighborhood gossip. Vera quickly saw a woman who enjoyed bringing bad news nearly as much as she did.

_See what she knows. _

"My Bates has to work way up north," Vera said with a catch in her voice, "but I'm hopin' he'll be able to come back to London once the estate is settled."

Mrs. Bartlett made a sound in her throat and nodded to the barmaid for another drink.

Vera saw deep green in the woman, brighter than Margaret Bates' door. "He's surprised me so at the prospects," she continued. "I can hardly believe it—"

"Yah, I 'spect there will be quite a bit," said Mrs. Bartlett with barely controlled fury. The barmaid refilled her glass and beat a retreat.

"Is there some dispute? I'd hate for Mr. Bates to find a shock at the probate."

"Nothing that can be done legally," grumbled Mrs. Bartlett. "But there's what's right. I cared for Mrs. Bates through her last illnesses, and she was always saying I would be rewarded."

"I haven't seen you around the house during the last," pointed out Vera before draining her drink and catching the barmaid's eye. The girl scurried over with a decanter to top off her glass.

"The sickness got to her mind. She wasn't herself there at the end. Ordered me out. Claimed I'd taken things—I had not!"

Vera was quite certain that Margaret Bates, even when confined to a bed, would know where every pin and bob was in her home; which was why she'd been unable to steal from her mother-in-law in the past. And still had been banned from the house while Bates was in prison.

_Hope the Irish bitch shat herself like a lame dog and slept in it._

"The old do go wrong in the head," Vera said with sympathy. She noted the speculative gleam in Mrs. Bartlett's eye and felt she had to put a stop to it. "But I don't hold much sway with my husband, I'm afraid. He's a frightful man, with a great temper and a quick hand. Don't let the cane fool you. He'll use it on a lady just as easy."

Mrs. Bartlett gave some reassurances about a woman's lot in life and Vera allowed a few tears to form in the corner of her eyes. The neighbor leaned across the table and dropped her voice.

"Doesn't surprise me. That sort of man. And he's got another on the string."

"What?" Blazing white, to burn her pupils to charcoal.

"Some little lass came around about two year back. Mrs. Bates welcomed her into her home as though she were a real lady. Crowed about her at the market stalls, that she was a proper sweet girl, not like—" Mrs. Bartlett pulled herself up short. "But obviously she was no better than she ought to be if she's going about with a married man. A sign that Mrs. Bates' mind was going already, for she was a regular churchgoer and knew her commandments."

Vera could barely gasp out words, trying to drown out the maid's hysterical cackles at her humiliation. She grasped at something to retain her dignity. " I suppose she's a gimp too? Blind in one eye? Missing a hand?"

"Oh no! I saw her coming out a the house several times. Very pretty _young_ lass. Blonde." Mrs. Bartlett glanced over Vera. "Perhaps she heard of the money. Had the name Anna Smith."

Vera could barely hear or see. The maid's cruel mirth was deafening and the waves of red, deep as blood, washed over her vision. Finally, she found her speech. "Anna, you say." She forced out an empty laugh. "That would be Mr. Bates' cousin from York. Came to check on his mother and assure she wasn't frittering away her fortune."

Holding the table for support, she managed to stand. "Very nice to chat with you, Mrs. Bartlett. But I must be going. I'll be traveling soon and need to prepare."

"A journey?"

"Yes, I am to join Mr. Bates in the north. We've been apart for too long."

~ end part 5


	6. Chapter 6

_Spoilers: S2.1_

_Summary: A new girl arrives; a valued man leaves._

_A/N: what a paramount A/B episode! This part just goes on and on, because for all we saw, I realized there's so much we didn't see._

* * *

"You're here at last," Mrs. Hughes said as a greeting to Ethel, her mouth disapprovingly pursed as she spoke.

"Yes, ma'am," Ethel said with no remorse. "Me train was delayed."

"I see." The housekeeper narrowed her eyes but Ethel just glanced around the sitting room and gave a saucy grin to the other maid who was waiting patiently.

In fact, Ethel's train had been right on time, but she'd disembarked at Ripon rather than Downton village to get the lay of the land. God knows her first half day wouldn't be for weeks, and she'd not want to waste those few precious hours finding out what was to be had for a good time. Yorkshire wasn't much, but it was still closer to London's sophistication than her last post in the wilds of Northumberland. She'd heard that the Crawleys often went to London and surely they'd take their staff...London, with cinemas on every corner and supper clubs and so many men...

Mrs. Hughes was droning on. "Mrs. Buchanan said you show promise, so I have high hopes that you will give us good service."

What Ethel's former overseer, the cook at Halifax House, had said was, 'Mrs. Hughes is strict but fair. If she can't make something of you, no one can. I'm too old and tired to deal with your saucy ways.'

"There's no time to show you anything tonight," Mrs. Hughes said, "so Anna here will have to start right off in the morning."

The other maid gave a tight smile and extended her hand. "Anna's the head housemaid," the housekeeper said, "and you'll be sharing her room."

Ethel held in her disappointment. "I didn't—"

Mrs. Hughes went on without waiting for her to finish. "We're to have a charity concert for the Downton village hospital tomorrow evening, so you'll need to help with that as well as your normal duties."

"We'll get it done," Anna said crisply and Ethel rolled her eyes. The head housemaid must be one of those boot-licking types.

"Thank you, Anna," said Mrs. Hughes. "Well, off to bed then. It'll be dawn before you know it."

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes," said Anna. She told Ethel, "I'll show you to our room."

As they climbed the stairs, Anna tossed over her shoulder, "Did you have any supper on the train? We can get something from the kitchens—"

"Ta," said Ethel, dragging her carpet bag along. "But I had a cold pie with me."

Anna showed her the bedroom, and at least it was large, but she still didn't like the idea of sharing. She tossed her bag by one of the beds.

Leading her out of the room, Anna pointed out a door at the end of the passage. "Bath's in there, and the pot's under your bed. There's a posted schedule for bathing and whatever you do, don't take Miss O'Brien's time or you'll never hear the end of it."

"Where's that lead?" Ethel asked, nodding toward the furthest door.

"To the men's corridor," Anna said shortly.

"Oh, does it," Ethel said with interest.

Anna folded her arms. "Mrs. Hughes is the only one who can open it."

Ethel leaned close. "Truly?"

"Truly."

The bathroom door opened and Sarah O'Brien came out in her dressing gown, her hair covered with a rubber cap and her towel over her arm. She raised her eyebrows and waited for Anna to introduce Ethel.

"You're finally here," she said dryly. "We'd given up hope."

Ethel only shrugged.

O'Brien looked at the locked door. "So you're explaining the rules to Ethel?" she asked with a sly smile.

Anna's face set. "Yes, I am. Well, we'd best get to bed. It's a long day tomorrow with the concert." She herded Ethel back to their room, followed by a dry chuckle from O'Brien.

"She's a right Tatar, isn't she?" Ethel said loud enough to be heard before Anna closed the door.

Anna only sighed and removed her apron.

"Any jolly blokes among the male staff?" asked Ethel as she began to unpack. "And I don't mean no footmen or grooms. Only quality who have some money to spend on a girl."

"I wouldn't say that I've noticed," said Anna, continuing to undress.

Ethel made a face behind her back. "I suppose I'll just have to sus them out for myself then," she said with a toss of her head.

After she pulled her nightgown over her head, Anna cautioned the new maid. "Mrs. Hughes keeps a sharp eye on us girls, and will not tolerate any funny business."

"Oh, there's nothing funny in my ways," said Ethel as she found her own nightclothes in her bag. "I'm dead serious about it.'

* * *

By tea time the next day, Ethel had had it right up to her chin with Anna Smith's superior manner. No matter how many times she'd made it clear the she was an experienced maid, the head housemaid continued to natter on with the proper way things were to be done at Downton Abbey.

She sat across the table from Anna and glared at the other woman all through their meal. Anna chatted with everyone present and didn't seem to notice.

Carson rose to answer the phone ringing in his pantry. He returned with news. "That was the station," he said, "Lady Mary's train was on time—"

Anna pushed back from the table. "I'll go out to wait for her then."

"And Mr. Bates was on the same train," he added, "he's riding with her."

She flashed him a blinding smile. "Thank you, Mr. Carson," she said, hurrying from the room.

Mrs. Hughes flattened against the wall to allow the swift maid to pass. "What's that about?" she asked the butler.

"Mr. Bates has returned," he said and he and the housekeeper exchanged smiles.

Ethel drained her tea cup. So that's what was up with the snotty housemaid. She couldn't wait to have a look at his lordship's valet after hearing everyone go on about him. Anna had behaved as though no servant was good enough for her, but one apparently was.

When Ethel did see him, she was gravely disappointed. He was old and lame. All she could think was that he had money. She'd found that a cripple would easily pay to have a girl unbutton her blouse and let him have a peek.

She gave Mr. Bates a wide smile. Anna acted too high and mighty to be giving this man more than a fluttering of her eyelashes. If the price was right, Ethel would surely be more entertaining.

But after being introduced, he ignored her, and his gaze sought Anna. The two of them murmured together, ignoring the rest of the staff swirling around them.

The bells jangled for their charges, and the valet and maid hurried off. Ethel went to follow them upstairs, but Mrs. Hughes called the maid into her sitting room.

"What is it, Mrs. Hughes?" Ethel asked impatiently. "I'll be wanted in the Great Hall to ready things for the performance."

"Just a moment of your time," the housekeeper said, closing the door.

Ethel straightened her spine. Only been at the Abbey a day and already having a closed door talking to.

"I noticed you flirting with the Dowager Countess' coachman—"

"I'm just friendly," protested Ethel.

"I believe in being clear with my girls from the start," Mrs. Hughes said, folding her hands at her waist. "You'll be asked to leave if you're a distraction. I won't have it, Mr. Carson won't, and the family won't tolerate it either."

Ethel opened her mouth to protest, seeing in her mind's eye Anna's bright face looking up at the valet's. But then she remembered Mrs. Hughes' tolerate smile watching the couple. Biting back her bitterness, she finally nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Right then," Mrs. Hughes said, considering the discussion over. "Get on with your duties."

* * *

"I'm so very happy to have you back," Robert said as Bates removed his uniform jacket.

"I'm very glad to be back as well," his valet said, a smile flitting across his face. "And as a batman again."

Robert frowned. "It's all just for show, Bates. We're not really back in the service."

"War is a young man's game," Bates said thoughtlessly and his master's face darkened.

"You're full of cheer," the Earl said peevishly, "considering that you're coming from your mother's funeral."

"The flowers you sent were lovely, my lord," Bates said, returning to a deferential manner again. "I thank you."

"Of course." Robert briefly clasped his servant's shoulder.

After offering his lordship his dress shirt, Bates confessed: "Despite my loss, I am feeling that life may be taking a turn for the better."

"Oh?" Robert lifted his chin for Bates to button up his shirt and attach the collar.

Next came the overall pants. As the valet stood back for his master to put them on, he said, "My wife arrived just before my mother died."

"I can't see that as a good thing." The Earl buttoned his pants, then accepted the waistcoat.

"But it is, my lord." Bates fetched the red Spencer jacket from wardrobe. "I advanced the topic of a divorce," he said after a deep breath.

"Was she set against it?"

"No," Bates said, a full grin covering his face. "There's money, my lord, and she does love money."

"I see," Robert said slowly. "So once you're divorced—"

"I hope that..." Bates' face fell. "But I can't even entertain the thought. To bring shame on a young woman with my situation—"

"You don't give yourself credit, Bates. Anna has stood by you for this long," Robert reminded him.

"I can't help but think that she's wasting her youth on me."

"It's not your decision to make for her, Bates. Don't try to be a papa to her. She won't thank you for it."

"But I will thank you for the advice."

"So you'll wed when you can," mused Robert, "but can't have you remaining in the bachelor and maid quarters afterwards."

Bates got an intense look in his eyes that made his lordship smile.

"You'll have a cottage then. That is, if you don't plan on leaving," Robert added, his voice uncertain. "I'd hate to lose you, of course, but—"

"I can't speak for Anna, as you say, but I know for myself, I'm very well situated."

Shrewd, Robert eyed him. "But you won't want to stay here forever."

"This war...Who knows what the future will bring. First though, I must have my bride!"

Robert took a step back at his valet's emotional display, but then both men burst out with laughter.

"And you shall have her, I'm sure," promised Robert. "Tell her there's a cottage coming-" He suddenly pulled up short. "I say, not good form to be discussing this all before you've asked the lady. Not like I'm her father—"

"But I want to have things sorted," Bates said with a definite nod.

Robert doubted the young lady would be pleased to hear that her lover had told his intentions to their employer first—not very romantic, after all—but decided to remain silent. Bates obviously needed all his courage.

"You'll speak to her tonight?"

"Yes, I've already arranged it." Bates gathered up the soiled items for laundry. He looked Robert over, then put the things down and shot off a salute.

"Oh stop, you," Robert said, but he smiled in gratitude.

* * *

Mary accepted the handkerchief that Anna offered. "I'm being silly," she blubbered, still not in control of her voice.

"Not in the least, m'lady."

Mary suddenly, desperately wished for a true friend to confide in, but one did not exist. This realization only brought on a fresh fit of tears. But she thanked Anna for her support nonetheless.

"It's nothing," the maid said helplessly.

She had to shake herself out of this. "You must be pleased to have Bates back," she said after blowing her nose.

"I am." Anna fiddled with Mary's dressing gown, wringing it in her pale hands. "I think he may have news from London."

"What sort of news?"

"I don't know...But I've never seen him like this...Bubbly," she said with wonder.

Both women started giggling madly and when Mary recovered, she said, "Thank you, Anna. I needed that desperately."

"I'm glad to see a smile on you, m'lady. You'll need to put a brave face on to meet Mister Crawley so that he doesn't suspect you're not pleased for him," Anna advised.

"I'm sure Bates is happy to see _you_." Mary tried not to sound bitter. "Your company is a pleasure to him."

"I'm quite certain that Mr. Crawley will be very happy to see you again, my lady. He's just such a gentleman."

"My company tends to be a bit more work than yours is." Mary managed a watery laugh.

Anna glanced at the clock. "The performance will be starting soon," she said, anticipation high in her voice.

"Oh joy," Mary said flatly. Local talent and Matthew's new love of his life. All she needed would be for the wine to be off and her life would be complete.

"Joy for me," Anna said with another giggle.

"Surely you're not a secret fan of the parish chamber orchestra?"

The maid laughed again. "No, Mr. Bates has asked me to meet with him privately to hear this news—" She stopped and dropped her gaze.

"Do not worry," Mary said, rising from her vanity. "I shan't reveal the two of you to Mr. Carson or Mrs. Hughes. Go to your man—"

Anna bobbed a curtsy and was gone in a swirl of starched skirts. Mary lingered for a few moments more, the tears in her eyes now out of happiness for Anna.

* * *

Storming through the downstairs after her humiliation in the drawing room before the family, Ethel couldn't find the target of her fury, Miss O'Brien. Various hallboys and maids scurried out of her way, giggling.

"What's got you in a mood?" asked Mrs. Hughes, poking her head out of her sitting room.

"Where's Miss O'Brien?"

"She's upstairs waiting to assist her ladyship to ready for bed, of course," the housekeeper replied.

Before they could continue, the back door opened and Anna slipped in, her cheeks pink and eyes bright.

"Are you going up to Lady Mary?" called out Mrs. Hughes.

"Yes, I am," Anna said, lingering with them in the corridor. The outside door opened again and Mr. Bates entered. He stopped at the sight of the women and his pale complexion showed a red flush.

Mrs. Hughes looked back and forth between he and Anna. "Going up as well, Mr. Bates?" she asked knowingly.

"I was, Mrs. Hughes."

"I'll say good night then," the housekeeper said, corralling the maids like two errant sheep. "And have one last look around the Great Hall to assure everything is back in place."

"Good evening, ladies," he said as they passed.

"Good night, Mr. Bates," Ethel and Mrs. Hughes said in unison.

"Good night...John," Anna said quickly, blushing again. She clattered up the stairs before Mrs. Hughes could say anything but Ethel shot Bates a dirty look. The valet gripped the banister, watching Anna ascend, and didn't seem to notice Ethel.

It certainly looked as though the righteous Anna was giving the John Bates more than a few sweet looks and Mrs Hughes wasn't going to do a thing about it, while Ethel had been called to the carpet for a smile at a couchman. She fumed inside at the indignity of it all.

* * *

"Are you feeling better, m'lady?" Anna asked Lady Mary as she helped her out of her gown. "If you don't mind me asking."

"No, I don't mind. Despite an evening of everyone walking on eggshells with me and my feelings," Mary said. "But you're the only person who really wants to know."

The corner of Anna's mouth quirked but she remained silent.

"I'm better, now that I've met Livinia. She's a lovely girl."

"She is quite pretty and well-mannered," admitted Anna but she remained unenthusiastic.

"I want Matthew to be happy. And I'm not certain I could make him happy." Mary took a deep breath. Her emotions were close to the surface again.

"I don't know about that, m'lady. If your happiness comes from making him happy, I think it would sort itself out." Anna took the evening frock to the wardrobe and returned with Mary's dressing gown.

Mary had to change the subject. "Speaking of which, what was Bates' news? The news that made him so bubbly?"

"I don't want to go on about my silly—"

Mary accepted her gown and then turned to pin Anna with her gaze. "What did he have to say?" she demanded to know.

"He...He wants to marry me."

"Oh Anna!" Mary clapped her hands together and was surprised to find that she was unreservedly pleased, despite how much she would miss her maid.

"Yes, I'm very...happy." The word died on Anna's lips.

"Don't you dare hide your joy because of me." Mary sat at the vanity and stared at herself critically in the mirror. "I won't have it."

Taking up the silver-backed hairbrush, Anna began to brush her hair. "Very well then, m'lady. I shall be deliriously happy and grin like a fool."

"That's better," Mary said with a definite nod.

* * *

The next day, Anna and Mrs. Hughes stayed at the servants' table after everyone had finished breakfast and went on with their duties. The young maid shared her news.

"I see, Anna," said Mrs. Hughes, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice. "Well, thank you for telling me."

"Nothing's definite, Mrs. Hughes," Anna said as she rose from the table. "But I didn't want to spring our news on you later and have you be upset with us."

"Of course not. I'm very happy for you." But the older woman's face showed no joy for the maid.

"I'd better get back to work then," Anna said uncertainly, stepping from the room.

Mrs. Patimore watched her go. "Is it some bad news?" she asked her friend, shrewdly reading Mrs. Hughes' expression.

"No. No, not at all," Elsie said, trying to shake herself out of her distress.

The cook sat at the table and scooted the chair closer to her.

"Anna and Mr. Bates hope to marry," she said.

"Oh my," said Mrs. Patimore, her eyebrows rising to her cap's ruffle. "That is some news!"

"And I truly am very happy for them," Elsie repeated more to herself than to the cook. "It's just—"

"Yes." The cook nodded with understanding.

"I had expected Anna to take over for me someday. She's so very bright and competent."

"If anyone could have stepped into your shoes," agreed Mrs. Patimore, "it would have been she."

"I suppose though, we don't know how much longer this way of life will go on," Elsie said, looking around the hall. "It's probably wise for the younger ones to start making other plans."

"Aren't you a cheery soul," Mrs. Patimore said, but with good-humor. "I can't see Daisy going anywhere at least."

The young woman, who'd been lingering around the corner eavesdropping, frowned. William approached her and before he could speak, she grabbed his arm and dragged him away to spread her gossip.

He was astonished. A pretty thing like Anna? She was certainly out of the range for the likes of him, but he would expect her to reach a bit higher, for a man who could support her properly. Then again, Mr. Bates was not one to share his business with all and sundry; perhaps he had money squirreled away. That was one of things that William liked about the senior valet. He was a very good listener and not much of a talker. As the footman looked down at Daisy's animated face as she prattled on about romance and love under the stairs, William decided he needed to have a chat with Mr. Bates at once.

* * *

"What is it, William?" the valet asked when William found him outside cleaning boots and asked if he may have his ear for a moment.

"I thought perhaps...You could have some advice for me."

"Me? I don't know if I can advise any young man on the proper way to lead his life," Bates said with a rueful smile. "I made a pretty bad muck of my youth."

"It's the benefit of your experience that I need."

Bates put down the riding boot he'd been polishing and waited.

"It's about..." William gulped. "Women. Or rather, a girl."

"I see." Bates chuckled. "Another place I've made a mess of my life."

"Not at all," William protested.

"So word's gotten around?"

"Was it a secret?"

Bates picked up the remaining boot. "I prefer to keep my life private," he said carefully.

"Is anything kept private in this house?" pointed out the footman.

Bates grinned ruefully. "A girl...?" he prompted.

"Yes, Mr. Bates. I don't seem to be getting anywhere with Daisy."

The older man was silent for a few moments and William held his breath. Then he said, "Does she return your affections?"

"I know she likes me—"

"As a friend?"

"Of course we're friends," but even as he said this, William's heart sank.

Standing, Bates put his hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Anna is your friend, isn't she?" protested William.

"My very dearest friend, yes," Bates said quietly. "But...We're also more to each other. We have passion for each other as well," he explained, a bit uncomfortable.

William looked crestfallen.

"Daisy is still a young girl. She may need time for those feelings to develop," suggested Bates.

"That's true," William said, grasping at any hope.

"But I understand. At times of war, a man wants to marry." Bates fell deep in thought.

"My father still won't let me join up," grumbled William.

"He won't be the one making the decision much longer."

"Good," the young man said, indignant.

"I felt the same way once. And made an imprudent marriage in my haste," Bates told him.

William stared agog. Bates nodded.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bates," he finally said lamely.

"We live with our mistakes for the rest of our lives, William," he was warned.

Before the young man could find a response, Mr. Bates murmured that he had to return to his duties, and left William with much to contemplate.

* * *

Ethel was coming from the privy, her steps slow. She'd overheard Mrs. Hughes telling one of the scullery maids to have Ethel help to load the coal buckets in preparation for the morning fires. No need to hurry to that duty; she could always claim tummy upset if asked what had taken so long.

She took the route back by the wood sheds in case Mrs. Hughes was checking the courtyard for her—and her steps froze when she heard the unmistakable sounds of a couple doing something that the housekeeper would disapprove even more heartily than slacking off. The rustle of starched skirts, the wet movement of mouths moving across bare skin, the sighs of contentment.

"I've missed you," a male voice rasped. "Missed—this..."

The female response was lost, muffled in the soft sound of a long kiss.

Mr. Bates' voice and his companion must be Anna. He was a sly one, that lame valet. No wonder he'd turned Ethel aside without even a smile. He already had a girl willing to engage in a bit of slap and tickle in the sheds.

She stormed back to the house, its bright lights like lighthouse beacons leading her to shore. But as soon as she came through the door, Mrs. Hughes was there in the corridor, arms crossed.

"Ethel, wherever have you been? Madge has been expecting your help with the coal buckets."

A hour later, after scrubbing the coal dust from her hands, Ethel flounced into the servants hall. The two lovebirds were sitting as close as possible at the table, heads together. Slapping down her gazette without any regard for their privacy, Ethel scraped a chair back to sit on, making the sound as loud as a scold.

* * *

Going about her morning duties, Ethel was startled by a dark figure at the open back door. With the light behind her, the woman shimmered like a shadow, before stepping forward and a sharp-featured face came into focus. She was lady of a certain age with a fine, if tightly corseted figure.

Ethel looked around but she was the only staff member present. "May I help you?" she said uncertainly.

"Yes," the woman said in a rich voice. "I'm here to see John Bates. I'm his wife."

_Wife._ Ethel's mouth fell open, then curved into a smile. "Why don't you come this way and have a seat while I see if I can find him."

"Thank you ever so much," Mrs. Bates said, sweeping forward with a grand manner. Of course this would be the wife of the imperious valet, Ethel thought with a smirk. Not a bright little sparrow, but a dark raven.

She snagged Billy, one of the hall boys, and hissed at him to find Mr. Bates _now_, and tell him that his wife was here. After that, she showed the older woman to a chair.

"And you are?" Mrs. Bates said coolly, looking Ethel over and she realized that this woman was wondering if she was the one.

"Ethel, ma'am," she said promptly.

"There's another maid, Anna?"

"Yes, ma'am. Head housemaid." Ethel wondered if this humiliation would cause Anna to leave, creating a vacant position. She smiled again.

"I was a housemaid myself at once time," Mrs. Bates said, "but more recently, I've been a lady's maid. It's more suited to my talents," she added with a smug turn of her lips.

"I'd like to be a lady's maid someday," Ethel said, even though she had no such plan. Head housemaid would suit her just fine.

"It's a grand sort of work. The things you're privy to," cackled Mrs. Bates. "For example, I heard the most unbelievable tale recently. And of all people, Lady Mary was very much part of the story, I can tell you. You see, I worked for Lady Flintshire—"

Ethel tried to attend, even as her mind whirled about how Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson would react to this news of their pets. And who would see this woman first; Anna or Mr. Bates?

It was Anna who arrived first. She called Ethel away and was in the middle of one of her scolds when Ethel pulled her up short with exactly who their visitor was. Rather than flee, Anna strode back into the servants' hall and stared Mrs. Bates down. Chin up, she did not cry, her voice did not even waver.

And in that moment, Ethel finally learned something useful from Anna Smith; how to retain your pride in the face of public humiliation.

* * *

"May I see you, Mr. Carson?" asked Bates, his voice strained. He stepped into the butler's pantry and saw Mrs. Hughes in the corner. "Ah good, you're here as well." He gave a shattered sigh.

"What is it?" asked Mr. Carson, his mind on the wine he'd serve after dinner.

Bates closed the door, getting the senior staff's attention. "I am to give my resignation to his lordship tonight, effective immediately. I must leave tomorrow morning for London with my wife," he said tonelessly.

Mr. Carson's mouth fell open with shock, but when he glanced at Mrs. Hughes, she did not look that surprised at all. Her mouth was pursed in anger though, and her eyes were hot and accusatory.

"You've spoken to Anna?" she said tightly.

"Not yet." Bates seemed to be having trouble catching his breath.

"I hope you will make it clear that it's nothing she's done," said Mrs. Hughes.

"Of course," he rasped.

Carson was still trying to understand. He'd heard from a hallboy that a woman had appeared, saying she was Bates' wife, but he'd dismissed that as yet more downstairs gossip. "What in the world is going on?" he asked.

There was a rap on his door. Daisy stuck her head in before she could be denied. Not noticing the tense mood, she called out to Mrs. Hughes with excitement. "Lady Sybil is to present her cake to the family in the drawing room with their tea and wine. Her ladyship wishes for you to be there!"

Mrs. Hughes looked at the two men. "I can't—"

Carson, who'd been rooted to the floor, came to life. "Blast! I haven't taken up the port and sherry yet!"

He swept past Bates. "I'll speak to you later," he hissed. "Come along, Mrs. Hughes," he ordered, and she reluctantly joined him, giving the valet one more quelling glare.

* * *

"What in the world was that about?" Cora asked as her husband stormed into her bedroom, yanking his robe tie with jerky motions. "I could hear you yelling at Bates right through the door; had he lost your favorite cufflinks?"

Robert kicked off his slippers. "He's leaving."

Cora's mouth fell open. "What? Surely the army isn't taking him—"

"No. He's given notice. He leaves in the morning."

She couldn't help the sense of relief. The whole situation with a lame valet had never made her comfortable. Every new guest asked about the curiosity and all these suggestions of thievery—

"And worse, it means he's dropped Anna flat. That poor girl—"

"That's right," Cora said slowly. "Anna had an attachment to him—"

"He wanted to marry her."

"My goodness. But he's just leaving her here? He hasn't—"

"Not anything like that...Or at least I hope not." Robert jerked off his robe and tossed back the bedding. Cora scooted over to give him plenty of room as he climbed into her bed.

He passed a hand across his eyes. "That would just be the final straw if he did get her in trouble...But Anna's too smart—"

"She fell in love with a bounder, so I have to wonder," Cora pointed out.

Robert started to protest and then his shoulders slumped. "Just when it looked as though he was going to be free from his wife—"

"What?" screeched Cora. "He was married?"

"Yes," confessed Robert. "He came back from London convinced she would grant him a divorce and he and Anna could finally be together—"

"This is simply unacceptable," fumed his wife. "Why didn't you tell me that he was married? I would have put a stop to this thing with Anna right away. If you had insisted on keeping Bates, then I would have sent her away where she could be safe and found a better prospect."

"Cora—"

"I'm serious, Robert! Just by being married, he was compromising her! If word got around that she was keeping company with him, her virtue would be in question!"

"He would never—"

"But he did," she pointed out. She carefully folded the sheet over the coverlet and smoothed the linen. "This is all for the best. Why, even if he'd received a divorce, I should hope that Anna wouldn't have married him. Disgraceful..."

"She loved him," Robert said, sliding down under the covers, the fight gone for him. "And he loved her."

* * *

Mrs. Hughes paced the corridor by the back door. She'd seen Anna slip out to the courtyard earlier, her face worried. Surely Mr. Bates had asked the girl to meet him there and she was receiving the devastating news at the moment.

But it was he who returned first, his face stained with tears.

"Mr. Bates—"

"There's nothing that can be said," he ground out, brushing past her, his limp more marked than it had been in years.

She hurried through the door and searched the dark courtyard until she found the huddled form of Anna sobbing on a packing crate. Gathering the girl in her arms, she clung onto her shaking form as though pulling her to safety from an undertow.

"It's all for the best," she found herself saying.

Anna made a painful gasp of protest, unable to form words in her raw throat.

"He's not a free man, my dear."

Anna straightened up and scrubbed her eyes like a small child. "I told him we should go away together. I did not need marriage—"

Mrs. Hughes gasped. She'd failed her charge indeed if she had not seen how serious had become. All these years, she'd looking the other way as they'd been meeting secretly... "You haven't—"

"Not yet, more the pity. I need to be with him—" Despite its uncontrolled quivering, Anna held her chin up defiantly.

The housekeeper took a relieved breath. "He's made the right decision, Anna. If his wife will not divorce him, he won't ruin you for his own base pleasures—"

"It's not base! Our love is pure, and I'm not going to hang onto my virtue for want of a piece of paper."

Mrs. Hughes head spun at the horror of what the normally sensible girl was saying. "Now listen—"

"No, it is he who must listen." Anna struggled to her feet.

Mrs. Hughes held onto her arm with all her strength, hoping no one came along to find the two women wrestling in such an undignified fashion. "No! You must understand. He's protecting you. She knows, Anna! She knows about the Turkish gentlemen and your role—"

Instead of being pleased that Mr. Bates was saving her honor, Anna shocked the housekeeper even more by cursing.

"Damn him!" she ranted. "I knew he was being noble! I don't need to be protected!"

"But the family does," Mrs. Hughes reminded her. "Lady Mary is in a delicate position with her prospects since she refused Mr. Crawley—"

Anna slumped against her, the fight spent.

"Come along, child," coaxed Mrs. Hughes, leading her back to the house.

As if in a trance, Anna put one foot before the other, allowing herself to be taken up the stairs and into the women's corridor. Outside her bedroom door, she came back to life.

"Open the men's door for me, Mrs. Hughes," she demanded, her deep eyes startling the older woman with their intensity.

"I will not!" hissed Mrs. Hughes, her gaze darting up and down the passage to see if they were being heard.

Anna began to undo her uniform's buttons. "If I go to him, he cannot refuse me. And once he's lain with me, he will not leave me," she explained with a frightening calmness.

"I won't allow this, young lady," whispered Mrs. Hughes, "you will do no such thing!"

She pushed Anna toward her door. "I will lock you in if I have to," she warned. "Do I have your promise that you'll do nothing rash?"

Anna clung to the doorjamb, dry sobs wracking her body. Overcome with sympathy again, Mrs. Hughes rubbed her back. Calmer, she urged the maid, "Go on now. Get to bed. Don't worry about helping Lady Sybil in the morning. I'll take your place."

Nodding wordlessly, Anna turned the doorknob with a shaking hand. "Thank you, Mrs. Hughes," she murmured, her voice still thick with tears.

When the door finally closed, Mrs. Hughes pressed her own trembling hands together, regaining control. She looked from Anna's door to the men's corridor door. Hating that she couldn't trust her most honest charge, she went to the door and took down the key for that night.

Anna stumbled toward her bed in the dark.

"Shall I light a candle?" Ethel asked, unsure.

"No. I'm fine," came the pained reply.

Ethel started to say several different things, then finally said the most sincere words she'd uttered since arriving at Downton: "I'm so very sorry, Anna."

"Thank you," Anna replied and there was true gratitude there. Ethel knew she'd made a friend by saying the most trite of expressions. She burrowed down in her bed, wondering what the future would bring for them now.

~ end, Part Six

E/N: Hmmm...At this point, everyone pretty much knows, so I suppose that I can move onto everyone finding out that they're married! Or another story...Hmmm...Hate when stories sort of peter out, but it's not like I had a plot to start with!


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